On Firmer Footing
by Surreysmum
Summary: Shortly before the events of the Ringwar, the hero Aragorn undertook a daring stealth mission to capture the creature Gollum in the Dead Marshes near Mordor. What was never told was how he was joined by a second brave warrior. Legolas/Aragorn slash.
1. Chapter 1

On Firmer Footing

Aragorn nearly died that night. When he came to think of it later, he would wonder how his judgment could have deserted him so much that he stumbled and staggered into that foul and evil place in the dead of night.

They called it the Dead Marshes, and with reason, for it stank of rottenness and corruption, a fitting gateway to the even fouler Mordor. But it would have been better if the Marshes had been dead in fact. There were no higher beings there, it is true – no Men, or Elves, or even Orcs, who had the sense to use the dry passage to the East in their predations. Nor were there cattle, or horses, or even birds. But the marshes teemed with creeping, slimy life: snakes and beetles and slugs and strange beings, neither plant nor animal, living out their hidden lives in the mud and fetid water.

None of this could the Ranger see as he staggered across the unsteady ground. He had not dared rest during all the week before, while he pursued his unsuccessful search in Mordor itself; he had been liable at any moment to be killed or, worse, to be captured and found interesting by the master of that place. Now, half-blind with fatigue, and straining his untrustworthy eyes at every dull glimmer of moonlight the begrudging clouds let pass, he stumbled wearily from one crumbling mound of filth to the next, slipping as often as not knee-deep in mire. His arms were covered in muck to the shoulder from the all too frequent necessity of feeling his way forward on hands and knees in the darkness. He had all but lost his way, only a small deeply-buried sense keeping him moving north, ever north, to the outer bourn of this hellish place – if indeed it had an end. In the delirium of his fatigue, Aragorn was far from sure.

At first he thought the lights that flickered around him were mere delirium too. It was only with difficulty that he dredged up from his memory the descriptions he had read of the Marshes. The lights were harmless, he told himself sternly, as were the illusions of corpses that were rumoured to show themselves to unwary travellers. Somehow the thought gave him little comfort.

Onward and onward he laboured, wretched and exhausted but unable to stop for lack of a few feet of solid ground on which to stretch his weary body. At length, off to his right, it seemed the black horizon lightened a little, a very little. Dawn was coming. Or was it the approach of an enemy? Or just another delusion? In any case the Ranger resolved to meet it standing on two feet, not grovelling like a beast. He heaved himself shakily upright.

It was a mistake. A pale face with a ghastly gash across it suddenly leered at him from the water nearby and Aragorn, startled, lost his footing and measured his length in the slimy pool. Wild thoughts of being dragged to his death by the ancient corpses passed through his bewildered mind, and he nearly panicked when something seized him by the scruff of his neck. But the firm grip yanked him up, not down, and Aragorn found himself gasping but undrowned in the mud at the edge of the water.

His rescuer wore a dark cloak and hood. "Are you well?" inquired a silky, masculine voice in Elvish.

"I am grateful, stranger," Aragorn forced out in the same language. "I am greatly fatigued, but uninjured, thanks to your assistance." He looked up, but the other's face was hidden.

"You are very dirty," observed the other in chilly tones. "Let us find the edge of this marsh, and some place for you to wash and sleep."

Aragorn assented meekly, like a chidden child. He stumbled along behind where the other trod, assisted a little by the dawning day, though it was a grudging sun without heat or brilliance. Occasionally the Elf had to reach back and save him with a rough grasp on his arm when the human sank through where the Elf's lighter tread had easily passed. At such times, Aragorn could have sworn he heard a sigh of exasperation, but they persevered, the Elf severely silent, and Aragorn saving his breath for the struggle each step cost him.

"Here will do," said the Elf at last. Aragorn started, realizing that he had been walking half-asleep, eyes closed, and had not even registered the firmer ground beneath his feet. The stench of the marshes was still all around, but they had reached a small promontory of rocky ground, with a few trees and, miraculously, a small but clear stream trickling its way down to the muck. Too tired to be ashamed, he sank to his knees and then fully to the ground, asleep in seconds.

/-/-/-/-/

When the Ranger awoke, it was dark once more. His head rested on something soft and fragrant, which proved to be the Elf's own cloak. Several feet away, the Elf sat in the moonlight fashioning a bow from some branches with one of his long, sharp knives; another, completed, rested nearby. Aragorn felt a pang of warrior's shame: his sword had been broken and lost in a scuffle with Orcs just before he entered Mordor, and his sole remaining knife, in his boot, was blunted and nearly useless.

"Good, you are awake," said the Elf, and if there was contempt in his tones, it was only what the Ranger deserved, after all. "There is a stream over there."

It was neither a request nor an order; it did not have to be. Aragorn went silently to the bank of the little stream, and stripped off his boots, then his filthy tunic and breeks. There was enough water to immerse himself, so that is what he did, and the harshness of the cold water refreshed him greatly. Reaching for his filthy clothes, he sighed and then immersed them too, managing to wring at least one layer of dirt out of them.

"I have already washed your cloak," said the Elf, pulling that object off a bush where it had been drying and tossing it to him. Aragorn climbed out of the stream and wrapped the warm material around himself gratefully.

For the first time, he had a good look at his rescuer, and in that silvery light, it was a sight indeed. The Elf was tall and slender, with the pure, proud beauty of the Sindarin people evident in every symmetrical feature. His green hunting clothes were practicality itself, but cut to perfection, cinched at the waist and emphasizing the strong set of shoulders that could carry any burden asked of them without the waste of one extra ounce of flesh. Aragorn had been reared by Elves, and knew better than to mistake beauty for femininity. This was an _ellon_, and not merely male, but if his manner was any indication, a leader as well, accustomed to command and unlikely to countenance weakness or failure in his companions. The tight braids he wore in his striking blond hair were not decoration, but honours earned by valour in the field.

Aragorn bowed slightly. "I am grateful…" he began, but the Elf made a dismissive gesture.

"There is no need," he said brusquely. "I sought you and I have found you. It is enough. I wish to join you on your quest, Aragorn son of Arathorn."

Aragorn stiffened. He was not called by that name these days, even by his closest associates, and the fact that this stranger Elf knew it seemed clear proof he had been betrayed.

"Who is this Aragorn you speak of?" he enquired guilelessly.

For the first time, the Elf displayed real emotion, and it was irritation. "It is yourself," he said. "Several of my countrymen have met you and described you accurately to me. And Mithrandir also…"

"Gandalf?"

"Yes, Gandalf. It was he who told me what you do in these forsaken parts."

"There you are mistaken. He knows nothing of my whereabouts."

The Elf shrugged. "He guesses. And he guesses for what purpose, and honours you for your courage in seeking to do by stealth what no army could hope to accomplish - find and capture the debased halfling, Smeagol, who knows great secrets."

Aragorn was greatly alarmed; not only did this Elf know his name, but also his quest.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"I am Legolas," replied the other proudly, as if no other name was needed. And none was. This was the famed Greenleaf, son of Thranduil King of Mirkwood, renowned not only for the accuracy of his bow amongst a nation of archers, but his swiftness, his strength and his ruthlessness in battle. Men said that in the Battle of the Five Armies he had slain forty-seven with his own hand.

Aragorn bowed in earnest this time. "I am honoured," he said. Then he sighed bitterly. "But you waste your time with me. I have failed; the creature is endlessly elusive. Gandalf does not do well to waste a warrior like yourself on such a mission."

"Mithrandir did not send me," replied Legolas coldly; "I am here on my own account. As far as the world knows, I still patrol the northern borders of my father's kingdom at this moment, and so I would prefer it to remain."

Many questions rose to Aragorn's lips, but the Elf's chilly gaze repressed them. Instead, the Ranger said only, "As you wish. I am most happy to have your assistance."

"It is agreed, then. Shall we start now, or do you wish to wait until dawn to resume your search?"

Aragorn looked at his sodden clothes drying upon the bush. "Dawn will favour my human eyes," he said wryly, and Legolas nodded, neither mocking nor disagreeing.

"Till dawn, then," he said, and swung himself up into the branches of one of the trees to take his rest, leaving Aragorn to lay his head once more upon the strange, fragrant cloak and sleep as best he could.

_End of chapter 1._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Dawn came too soon for Aragorn's weary body, but he was at least somewhat refreshed. As he stretched himself awake, he became aware first of the Elf's quizzical gaze upon him, and then of his own half-naked, chilly state. Clutching his cloak around him, he nodded a determinedly emotionless greeting to Legolas, and took his clothing a few paces further into the trees where he could dress in peace. A surge of irritation, chiefly directed at himself, overtook him; why this sudden access of modesty? He had never felt the need to hide behind a tree when in company with Halbarad or his other Rangers. Anyone would think Legolas Greenleaf was some high-born lady giving him her condescending notice… Aragorn smiled slightly at the very notion.

Legolas appeared suddenly, and proffered him one of his two bows. "Thank you," acknowledged the Ranger, and hefted it, finding it well-balanced and solid. "It is of good make."

Legolas shrugged. "There is little choice of wood in this part of the world. I could have wished it more supple, but it will serve.

"Once we have arrows," Aragorn pointed out.

"I have a few left in my quiver, but we must be sparing with them, for there are no birds here to provide feathers for more. Now, what kind of tracks does this halfling creature leave? I have never seen one."

"Human-like, but smallish in comparison. The halflings in the Shire have fur upon their feet, but I am told this one has none, nor indeed any hair upon his bony body, unlike his Shire cousins. So the tracks should be quite distinct. And he is, I am told, so degraded that he goes often on all fours instead of upright." A vivid picture of himself crossing the marshes two days before, chiefly on hands and knees, crossed Aragorn's mind, and he winced slightly.

Legolas paid that no mind, but simply said, "Good, I know now what to look for. Does he speak?"

"Gandalf says he speaks a garbled sort of Westron, but his most characteristic utterance is an angry hiss."

"And what does he eat?"

"Fish. Raw."

"Then he likely stinks also. Though whether that will assist in finding him in this noxious place, I am not sure."

Aragorn nodded agreement. Though the mists rose thickly from the swamp at this early hour, the terrain was now visible and they quickly decided to follow the northern margin seeking any sign that Gollum might have passed that way. They spoke little, Aragorn still feeling weak and decidedly chagrined that the Elf had so effectively commandeered his mission. He could not forbear frequent glances at the marble features of his companion, but could read nothing there except an occasional fleeting expression of disgust.

The sun rose higher and the air cleared a little. They had traversed several miles at a steady pace, but no air-breathing thing stirred besides themselves; no tracks of any kind showed in the glutinous mud that lined the reed banks; no noise other than the angry murmur of biting midges stirred the heavy air. Not for the first time that day, Aragorn's foot slipped heavily.

"When did you last eat?" asked Legolas abruptly.

Aragorn had to think about it. He was long past hunger. There had been little to scavenge in Mordor, and nothing at all as he made his reluctant, hasty retreat across the marshes from the band of Orc guards who had driven him out. "Three days, I think," he said.

"I should have realized." The Elf reached into his pack and handed Aragorn a substantial chunk of _lembas_. Was that a flash of guilt upon his impassive face? "I am little used to campaigning with mortals. Forgive me." Yes, it was an apology. Aragorn was too busy tearing into the waybread to make much more acknowledgment than a grateful grunt through his full mouth, but his surprise must have shown, for Legolas went on, now clearly embarrassed, "That was unforgivable."

Aragorn swallowed and replied hastily, "Not a bit of it. Had I any sense at all, I would have asked. Now, which way would you suggest around this mud-hillock?" And they went on with their slow quest as before, but it seemed to Aragorn that Legolas extended his occasional supporting hand less grudgingly, and that his glances were less disdainful. But, the Ranger admitted to himself, it could also be that he merely wished it to be so. The Elf was, after all, a beautiful, perfectly formed, commanding figure, skilled and renowned, and what man would not desire his good opinion?

Just as the man thought it, Legolas lurched upon a slippery mudbank and Aragorn caught his arm, a tiny chuckle of relief rising in his throat. Legolas smiled and what a smile! in response. "It is good to have a companion in this revolting country," he said. Aragorn let go, a little slowly, as they moved on.

It was a long and tedious day, and still they spoke little. Aragorn was greatly curious about how Legolas had found him and why he wished to join him in the hunt for Gollum, but every sidewise approach he made to the subject was immediately rebuffed. "Shall we retire into the woods for the night?" asked Legolas eventually. "The light is nearly gone."

"A little further," urged the Ranger, taking the lead. Mere steps later, his persistence was rewarded with the sight of small, soft tracks in the mud. Most ungenerously, Aragorn was delighted that it was his own eyes and not the Elf's which had first discovered them.

It took both pairs of eyes to follow the broken, meandering trail that Gollum had left, but eventually they found him, gazing into a muddy pool, hissing, "Fisssh, fissshhh where are you, fisshhh?"

With a cry of triumph the Ranger leapt upon him. The next moment he gave a different cry one of pain as Gollum sank long hard teeth into his throat. Legolas sprang to help, and between them they subdued the struggling creature, with much effort.

"It is nothing," gritted Aragorn, clapping one hand to the base of his bloodied neck. "Bind him first." Legolas sacrificed a strip of material from his cloak to tie Gollum's hands, but was not satisfied that it would hold for long.

"Where can we find rope in this forsaken place?" Legolas tore another strip from his clothing as he spoke, padding and wrapping Aragorn's wound with skill and speed clearly born of the battlefield.

"I can think of no place," replied Aragorn, submitting since the Elf clearly knew what he was doing. "But there is an alternative just over there, if you can keep our captive safe for a few minutes." As soon as the rough bandage was complete, he strode over to a reed bed, seated himself beside it, and began to pluck handfuls of the hard, fibrous plants.

Legolas half-dragged, half-carried Gollum to join him, careful to avoid the creature's biting lunges. "Be still, Smeagol," he barked. Gollum turned in his grasp, and for a long moment held his gaze, giving a low growl. Then he wrapped himself into a ball at Legolas' feet, bound hands over his head, and refused to move. It was as good a place as any to sit and watch the Ranger, who was plaiting reeds quickly and smoothly. Legolas bent forward, intrigued, to see the pattern, and holding Gollum firmly crooked in one leg, he plucked a few reeds to try it himself.

Aragorn looked up at the Elf's slight hiss of exasperation, seeing him put one thumb to his mouth. "Sorry," said the Ranger, smiling slightly to himself. "I should have warned you how sharp these reeds are." His own fingers, more callused than Legolas', were only slightly damaged.

"I am unhurt," replied the Elf, but he abandoned hiss attempt nonetheless, for Aragorn's swift fingers had nearly finished their task. When the Ranger brought the improvised harness and leash over, Legolas tested each part of it with a hard tug, finding it solid.

"Now walk," said Aragorn to their stubbornly immobile prisoner once they had trussed him into it. Gollum merely rolled himself into a tighter knot.

Aragorn sighed. "Walk," he said again. "We are leaving Mordor behind. That is what you want, is it not?" But Gollum would not speak; he merely hissed and growled.

Legolas heaved him bodily to his feet. "If you behave," he said, "we will find a clear stream and help you catch a fish." A gruesome smile crossed Gollum's face. Suddenly he burst into a run, which ended with a sharp jerk as he reached the end of his leash. He gave a short wail, then, giving them both a malevolent look over his shoulder, began to walk into the trees ahead of them. "Fissshhh.." he hissed softly. It was the only word he would utter for the next nine hundred miles.

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

Title: On Firmer Footing, Chapter 3

Author: surreysmum

Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn

Rating: PG for this chapter

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Tolkien; I merely play in a little corner of his wonderful garden. Please note that in this chapter I have changed very slightly the route which Aragorn (according to _Unfinished Tales_) took on his journey with Gollum from the Dead Marshes to Mirkwood.

**Chapter 3**

They travelled northwards for two days, travelling by both day and night, and stopping only long enough for Gollum and Aragorn to snatch some sleep now and then.

"Has he spoken to you at all?" asked Aragorn of Legolas, who had been keeping the watch.

Legolas shook his head. "Only hisses and screams. He is determined not to utter a word. Surely he has been terrorized beyond belief by the Necromancer."

"You think he has betrayed his secrets to the enemy then?"

"It is inevitable, is it not?"

Aragorn sighed. "Indeed. We can only hope that secrets are all that he had to give away."

Legolas looked at him sharply. "I too have heard the rumours that Sauron seeks the One Ring. Do you suppose that is why this creature is still alive, instead of at the bottom of a ditch?"

Aragorn nodded. "It would explain the three Orcs who have been tailing us for the last two days."

Legolas smiled slightly. "So you did see them."

"Of course." Aragorn was a little irritated. He was as good a tracker as any Elf alive. "The Orcs have little skill in concealment, especially in this marshy country."

"Do you wish to let them continue to follow us? Or should we face them down and get rid of them?"

Aragorn considered. There were but three Orcs, and they would pose no threat to Gollum so long as they believed they could follow him to some larger prize. But they might well attempt to cut Gollum loose from his captors at some unwary moment or, if left unhindered, might send one of their number back to Mordor with news that Gollum was now in the hands of Humans and Elves. "When we reach the foothills of Emyn Muil, we will have a defensible position," he said at last. "We will be there in a few hours."

Legolas agreed instantly, if a little coolly. "Do you have enough arrows?" he asked. They had been building up their little stock of weapons as they travelled.

"Aye," replied Aragorn, a little stiffly in his turn. It was beyond his comprehension why it should bother him so much that he received no compliments on his generalship. It was not something he had ever expected from any of his other comrades in arms. Somehow he would have given the world for a single admiring word from this remote companion.

They trudged onwards through the morning mist, shoving Gollum ahead of them. "You do not sleep well, for a human," observed Legolas suddenly.

Aragorn shrugged. "For many years now, I have been plagued by nightmares of war," he said. "It is part of my Dunadàn heritage, they say. I no longer trouble myself about the dreams, unless they change."

Legolas was silent, and Aragorn chose to interpret that silence as further dismissal of his human weakness. "I apologize if I disturbed you," he added, no apology in his tone.

"You did not," replied Legolas, and that was that.

Soon enough they reached their objective and set about preparing for battle. They had the high ground and more, for on the slope on which they stood grew tall, copious trees from which to conduct an ambush, while the Orcs would perforce approach from the more open and difficult marshy country.

"How do you propose to lure them forward?" asked the Elf.

"They are great lovers of fresh meat - we could offer them newly-slaughtered Sméagol!" replied Aragorn grumpily, for he was still suffering more than he would admit from Gollum's first deep bite, not to mention a few lesser ones delivered on the way.

Gollum's eyes grew wide, and he backed away to the limits of his tether.

Legolas' low laugh was unexpected, and struck pleasantly on the Ranger's ear. "No need for that yet, but I will find some small game that may have the same effect."

It worked well. They built a conspicuous fire, dined well if very cautiously beside it, and then retreated into the trees, where Legolas gagged Gollum and affixed him to a high branch. Within minutes, three shadowy Orcs around the fire were silently slain by arrows and buried in a shallow grave so as to leave as few traces as possible for any who might follow.

Aragorn hefted one of the Orcs' swords, which of course they had removed for their own use, along with several short black daggers. "Coarse, but serviceable," he remarked. "Now I feel useful again." And once more there was a quick, enigmatic glance from the Elf, but no comment.

They climbed the trees and made themselves comfortable for the night. Gollum, released to wander at the end of his leash, gazed long and hard at each of the two warriors, who had been nothing if not grimly efficient. After a long while, a decision evidently made, he edged away from Aragorn and settled himself in Legolas' protection.

"Hmph. It appears I am the less intimidating," remarked the Elf, with a glint of humour.

"Many would disagree," replied Aragorn quietly and, turning away, he did his best to sleep.

The next morning was bright and a little chilly. "What is our destination?" asked Legolas.

"Eventually your own father's halls, provided you have no objection," said Aragorn. "It is well known he wishes no part in any military campaigns against Mordor, but Gandalf has given me to understand that Mirkwood will undertake custody of important prisoners in our cause."

"That is correct," replied Legolas stiffly. "And I would not have you believe that all of us think as Thranduil does…." He bit off the sentence, clearly torn by his loyalty to that same father.

"But," Aragorn went on, to pass over the awkwardness, "I think it might be best to hold west and travel up through Lorien rather than taking a more direct route north. The southern areas of Mirkwood are most perilous, and besides, the Lady Galadriel will provide counsel."

Legolas looked for a moment as though this last would not be an unmixed blessing. But he quickly agreed, deferring to all of the Ranger's plans.

As they made their way across the foothills of Emyn Muin towards the great Anduin, Aragorn mused that Legolas, when all was said and done, had deferred all throughout this journey, despite the fact that the Ranger was second-born and unknown to him. Perhaps, after all, the supercilious air was just his manner, and not out-and-out disdain? But when Aragorn, acting upon this theory, sought to broach more personal topics such as whether Legolas was yet bonded to an _elleth_, the frigid resentment that followed the Elf's clipped negative was enough to keep them both silent for several hours.

A dull roar eventually began to impinge upon that silence. At first it was no greater than the rustling of the leaves in the trees, but soon it grew to a distant rumble, deep as thunder but too constant to be mistaken for a storm. Aragorn watched Legolas lift his head and breathe deeply. "The air grows fresher," said the Elf. "We will be climbing within the hour."

Aragorn looked at their prisoner, who was shilly-shallying along with a fatigued air. Letting Gollum out to the extent of his bonds, he took him down to the small stream whose path they followed, and nudged him towards a pool. "Fish," he commanded. "No-one wants to carry you up the cliff, so make your legs strong."

He looked away from the revolting sight of Gollum's raw meal, and accepted Legolas' offer of _lembas_. "No-one wants to carry either of us either," said Legolas lightly as he took his own share. "And it is a hard climb you propose for the sake of secrecy."

"Would you prefer to take a longer route around?" asked Aragorn, challenge in his eyes.

"Not at all," replied Legolas, unperturbed. "I have done this route many times, both up and down. I approve of your caution."

They soon emerged from the woods to the rocky shore of the great river Anduin, where a veritable wall of water, hundreds of feet high, fell over a cliff on their right hand side, plunging into the river before them so forcefully that the mist entirely obscured the opposite bank.

"The Falls of Rauros run very strong today!" shouted Aragorn over the deafening din. He eyed the spray-damp rocks on the cliff face with concern, picking out the best place to start. Giving Gollum the length of his leash, he lifted him up to begin the climb up the side of the falls. As he had expected, the small and agile creature had no trouble negotiating his way, and he frequently used better handholds and footholds on broken rock or stunted plant than Aragorn himself would have found. He was a troublesome guide, though, stopping frequently to look down and hiss at his captors, or scrambling up to the length of his tether and tugging frantically, no doubt hoping that he would break the Ranger's grip. Still, they persevered, all three, and after a strenuous few hours reached the brink at last.

Aragorn reached down to grip Legolas' wrist and haul him over the edge, and was rewarded with a broad, slightly strained smile. "Triumph!" said the Elf - or at least that is what he seemed to say, for the water's roar was as loud as ever.

Aragorn bent his head close. "Shall we camp now?" Legolas nodded agreement. But they had some trouble pulling Gollum away from a rock overhanging the edge of the falls where he sat gibbering to himself, hypnotized by the powerful rolling of the water over the precipice. When he gave in and crawled reluctantly after his captors, there was a sly smile upon his face.

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

An ethereal light, presaging dawn, penetrated tentatively through the leaves of the forest, but it did not wake the Ranger, nor did it rouse the tired Elf from the reverie into which he had fallen, lulled by the ever-present rumble of the Falls of Rauros.

Gollum gave a tiny hiss of satisfaction as he finally chewed through the last strands of his leash. As sneakily as he could, he tiptoed away from his captors, heading for the cliff where his agility would best serve his escape. He had made it almost to the fringes of the forest before a twig snapped beneath his foot.

Legolas jumped awake, and uttered a muffled curse as he saw the frayed rope dangling from the tree trunk. He sprinted after Gollum, who scuttled away as fast as his legs would take him. Then, in panic, he ran out upon the slippery ledge where he had perched the day before. Legolas ran at him full tilt, and Gollum dodged abruptly sideways just as the Elf reached him.

Legolas' foot slipped upon the rock and he tumbled over the brink of the falls, flailing ungracefully into the cold mist. Aragorn, only a few seconds behind, seized the remains of Gollum's leash, and holding him tight peered anxiously down into the spray. Dragging his prisoner to a nearby tree, he made short and rather rough work of retying him and then, sprinting back to the falls, he cried, "Legolas! Legolas!" But there was no answer, and no sign of the Elf in the violently churning pool below.

With no hesitation, Aragorn launched himself into a wide, arching dive over the plunging water. The surface below hit him like a murderous battle-blow, but he held his breath patiently, allowing himself to be buffeted this way and that until he regained his bearings and kicked his way to the welcome light and air. "Legolas! Legolas!" he cried again, but the falls' thunder was the only, mocking response. Aragorn dived once more beneath the tossing surface, and was rewarded after half a minute's groping and straining with a fistful of forest green serge. Yanking hard till he had a slim, limp body in his arms, he struck upwards once more and swam strongly backwards to shore. To his relief, Legolas coughed and sputtered within his firm grasp, and by the time they reached the bank, was breathing, albeit a little erratically.

The Ranger hauled him out and knelt beside him. He knew enough of Elves to be sure that, once out of water, Legolas would recover with almost frightening rapidity and would no doubt shrug off the incident with irritating sangfroid. But for now he looked like not only the fairest of beings but the most vulnerable, and Aragorn's hand caressed the damp cheek tenderly without his slightest volition. "Why are you here with me, you beautiful creature?" he murmured softly. "What is your mission, your mystery?" He sighed. "Whatever it is, I would be loath to lose you now. But do not worry, I will not disgust you with protestations or unwelcome advances." He withdrew his encroaching hand and set about the practical business of drying them both off a little, removing one piece of upper clothing at a time and wringing it out in the river before replacing it. As he started to squeeze Legolas' tunic, he felt something hard, and discovered in an inner pocket a miniature parcel, obviously precious, for it was wrapped tightly in waterproof animal hide. By its rectangular shape it was a notebook, or perhaps a small portrait. Aragorn was sorely tempted, but he was an honourable man. Setting it aside, he wrung out the tunic and placed the small package back in its pocket uninspected. The Elf was entitled to his secrets.

Legolas stirred. "My head pains me," he announced, rubbing a nasty bruise on his temple.

"Yes, you must have struck a rock. You were unconscious for some time." Aragorn kept his tone as cool as any healer's, though he felt anything but calm at the notion that the Elf could have drowned. "Can you stand?"

Legolas was already on his feet, donning his tunic then looking wryly up the cliff face they had scaled with so much effort the day before. "Sméagol?" he enquired.

"If he has not chewed through his bonds again, he is secured to a tree up there."

Legolas took a deep breath. "Then we should begin our climb."

Aragorn approached the Elf and held his face, still playing physician; he looked at his eyes (bright), his pallor (no more than usual), and his bruise (healing visibly already). "Very well," he said at last. "But I will go behind you, and you must rest if you feel faint.

Legolas smiled outright. "Yes, _nana_ [mama]," he replied, and the dry joke reassured the Ranger as nothing else could. "You saved my life," began the Elf.

"So we are even," replied Aragorn quickly, putting an end to the topic. They climbed.

Gollum was still hissing and grumbling in his bonds when they reached the top and resumed their journey. "We shall have to give him less latitude," said Legolas.

"Yes, I was going to let him swim across the river alongside us, but now I think we should not cross until Sarn Gebin. There is usually driftwood there, and we can tie him to a piece and float him across."

And so they did, continuing their journey north by tracks as westerly as they could find, through the skirts of Fangorn, and so over Limlight, and then over Nimrodel and Silverlode to the eaves of Lorien.*

As they drew closer to the first of the mallorn trees, Legolas hesitated. "I know you wish to talk with the Lady," he said, his trouble creasing his fair brow. "But I… I have reasons not to wish my presence known here."

Aragorn clasped him by the shoulder and held his gaze. "You must do as you think best," he answered warmly. "Your aid has been invaluable to me, and I do not question you. I will go ahead alone with Gollum and, if Galadriel grant me an audience, unburden my cares to her. I will not mention your assistance, much though I would wish to acknowledge it. Will you meet me a day hence on the riverbank north of Lorien to resume our journey?"

Legolas breathed a relieved sigh and agreed. Before Aragorn could blink twice, the Elf had disappeared into the surrounding foliage.

"Come, Gollum," said the Ranger to his silent captive. "We shall have a welcoming party to meet us ere long, no doubt." And indeed, Haldir was already on his way.

*This passage is drawn/quoted from _Unfinished Tales_, chapter IV, p. 443.

_tbc_


End file.
